


A Painter who is also a Knight

by kurikku



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurikku/pseuds/kurikku
Summary: Lorenz commissions Ignatz for his paintings that lead to something unexpected.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Catherine/Shamir Nevrand, Ferdinand von Aegir/Linhardt von Hevring, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	A Painter who is also a Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doop_doop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doop_doop/gifts).



> This is for Doop for hosting the awesome Ignatz week <3

Lorenz remains still, catching occasional whiffs of fresh paint that his roses couldn't mask. His eyes sweep across his chamber and fall onto the most curious thing — or rather, the person — in front of him.

Ignatz stands behind the canvas. Each stroke of his brush capturing Lorenz's magnificence for the promised post-war Golden Deer victory portrait.

"Thank you for your time, Count Lorenz. It won't take much longer now."

The Count's short hum elicits a chuckle out of the painter, one that's laced with a familiar nervousness.

While the war has concluded, Lorenz's battles as House Gloucester's successor never ends. Although, unlike his father, Lorenz remains kind to nobles and commoners alike, much to the aforementioned's dismay.

It has taken so long for Lorenz to restore his territory that when he finally schedule a session with Ignatz, he’s the last person to be drawn. Hilda may have joked Ignatz's saving the best for the last in her letters but Lorenz wished he could've done it earlier. As much as he doesn't want to admit it openly, he misses his fellow fawns, especially _him_.

There's an answer he's expecting.

Silence sets in once Ignatz puts down his paintbrush. Lorenz stretches a bit before walking over to him. It's a small feat to remain in the same position for hours. He's used to his portraits being drawn for the family portraits decorate every section of the mansion after all.

"Has my beauty left you breathless?"

"Lorenz!" Ignatz says, a flush of embarrassment gathering in his face. "I-I'm not done yet!"

"But you are done, aren't you?" Gently, Lorenz holds Ignatz's wrist. Despite spending hours painting, their gazes never met until now. The painter's lips quiver as he breaks eye contact. Lorenz releases his hands and a quick look at the painting confirms his suspicions. "And you didn't even need a reference in the first place."

"What?"

Lorenz's fingers hover over the perfect painting. A spitting image with the man himself. All except...

"The number of petals. You drew from memory."

Currently, his usual rose has been replaced with a real one. Ignatz, a detail-orientated man, would've noticed that easily if he were paying attention. This time, Ignatz's laughter is self-depreciative, one that Lorenz doesn't miss.

Doubt shrouded the painter's shifty eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't be your knight, Count Lorenz."

"A shame. Why?"

"I want to explore the world and paint. I really do. Just that..."

"You haven't informed your parents?"

Despite being a hero of Fodlan, Ignatz doesn't see himself as one. He clutches onto his paintbrush as if it would be taken away. His voice trembles. "I will, soon."

Lorenz understands. Battling against his own family is different from any enemies he fought on the battlefield, tougher even. He unpins his rose and places it onto Ignatz's hands. There are no thorns, yet something about Ignatz's resigned expression pricks him. It doesn't suit _him_.

"It's simple. Tell them that I commissioned you to do so."

"Eh?"

"Send every painting that caught your interest back to me. I'll safeguard them."

"I'm still... not a knight."

"Oh Ignatz," Lorenz gestures to his sword on his belt and the brush he's holding. "You're already are."

* * *

A week later, a parcel stamped along with a pressed rose petal finds its way to Lorenz's gazebo. Immediately, Lorenz sets his tea down and unwraps the gift.

It's Ignatz's first commissioned painting.

Lorenz is washed by waves of pride. A picture-perfect landscape drawing of the beautiful Deirdre's waves along with its perpetual crowd of customers from the nearby stalls. As he turns the painting around, an envelope catches his eye. It's tucked nicely at the corner, unsealed. The letter is creased as if Ignatz hesitated in sending the letter along with the painting.

A wide smile spreads across Lorenz's lips. He dismisses his servants as he pores over the letter.

 _"Dear_ _Count_ _Lorenz,_

 _It was embarrassing to get this view. I tried to be as discreet as possible, but people still noticed me._ _I thought I was good at blending in the background. Perhaps I wore too much green, it's not a battlefield hah._ _Sorry, I ran out of writing paper to redo the report... As for why I drew this... It's the tranquillity. Despite the liveliness of the town,_ _I feel at peace_ _there's a moment of peace within. The stalls vary stall to stall yet there's a sense of unity. It reminds me of the Golden Deer. I hope I get the message across._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Ignatz Victor"_

Lorenz's smile never leaves his face as he puts the painting up in his study room. The letter is kept neatly in his journal, close to his heart.

* * *

Over the months, paintings of almost every region in Leicester arrived. They grace through the hallways as the Count's guests listen to his explanation to the pieces that catch their eye. Whenever Ferdinand visits, it takes them almost two hours to get to the living room for their afternoon tea.

However, the tour gets shorter each passing day and eventually, it stops.

"Perhaps he got lost in Lake Teutates."

Lorenz tears his eyes away from the lake painting and meets his tea companion's gaze. Ferdinand rests his hand on Lorenz's shoulder. He continues, "I believe previously Lin and Leonie had asked our help to find a powerful weapon. A bow, wasn't it?"

With a repressed sigh, the Count releases his curled hands. His eyes are drawn towards the last piece sent by Ignatz, lost in its fog.

"I apologise, Duke Ferdinand. I'm not in the best state of mind lately."

"That's understandable. Ignatz's is a dear friend."

While Lorenz may be quick to agree with the fellow noble, he doesn't this time. The word friend rolls in his tongue. Does Lorenz have the right to call himself that when he had instructed Ignatz to chase his dreams and seemingly disappeared in the midst of it?

A petal drops from his pinned rose and Lorenz stares at it helplessly.

* * *

The Count dismisses his guest for a stroll in town. A change in scenery, as per Ferdinand's suggestion, works wonders and is what Lorenz needs. His focus on assisting the commonfolks hasn’t gone unnoticed as he patrons the flourishing market. They recognise him, if not for his pinned rose then for exuding an air of refinement. The hostility they harboured towards Count Allen, his father, is absent. With polite smiles, they greet Lorenz.

His stroll comes to an abrupt stop upon an accessory stall. A green quill pen sits on display, its resemblance is uncanny. Still, Lorenz asks calmly, "Sir, where perchance did you find this?"

"Why," the merchant raises his eyebrows. His wolfish grin reveals his crooked teeth. "My sources are a secret."

Lorenz examines the quill and his hands shake ever so slightly. Ignatz's initials are embedded on it. "Speak, do you not know who I am?"

"Ah, so it's true that pipsqueak was your friend."

All traces of his remaining composure slips away as he clutches onto the quill with all his might. "Explain yourself."

"I'm just selling something that I bought."

"Nonsense, this item is priceless how could you ever afford it?"

"My lips are sealed... unless you have 80,000 gold to spare?"

"How dare you try to bargain with that ridiculous price."

"Oh, but didn't you say it was priceless? Then, surely you would have more than that."

"Excuse me." A soothing yet firm voice belonging to Lorenz's ex-classmate speaks up. His ashen hair may not indicate his age but his wisdom as he steps in, haggling the price down to nil in a flash. While Lorenz’s unable to keep up with the negotiation, he gets the gist.

Ignatz was robbed at the Conrad Tower.

* * *

"Sorry that you encountered a scammer, Count Lorenz. I'm unaware of the knights' custom in Leicester so I hope I didn't breach any."

The thief has been arrested and sent off to the nearest local group of knights. Lorenz nods at the knight that saved and ushered him to the uncrowded cafe next to the library. He wouldn't want to waste the rest of the day wallowing in his thoughts again.

"No, I..." Lorenz struggles to find his voice. He grips onto the rest of Ignatz's belongings that was hidden in a bag underneath the shop's table. His cape, his sword... almost everything he owns. No wonder Ignatz hasn't been sending anything. "Ashe, I should be the one thanking you."

Offering a kind smile, Ashe says, "Don't mention it, I'm only doing my duty."

A pang of guilt hits him again. He can't help but wonder if Ignatz becomes a knight like him, he wouldn't have been robbed while possibly painting. How and where is he now? Have the knights that interrogated the thief found any useful information on Ignatz? What would Lorenz tell to Ignatz's family?

Another voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "We fought the same battles with Ignatz, didn't we?"

Lorenz meets Felix's gaze. His mouth parts but no words come out. Felix clicks his tongue and stands up, pouring tea onto the Count's half-empty glass. The familiar aroma of Four-Spice tea slowly calms his nerves.

After a sip, Lorenz answers. "Yes, we did."

"Then I'm sure you know more than anyone else how capable Ignatz is on the battlefield. He wouldn't have lost to them without a reason."

"What, what are you suggesting?"

Seeing that Felix is busy drinking his tea, Ashe replies, "What Felix means is that Ignatz must be protecting something important. I believe it too."

For the first time, Lorenz notices the matching rings on their ring fingers. "O-oh, both of you are..."

Felix's cheeks tint pink. He chugs another glass of tea down, refusing to answer. Meanwhile, Ashe chuckles and scratches his freckles. "Indeed, we're each others' knights, unbind by any contracts other than our justice and love for one another and others."

His words echo in Lorenz's mind. It's definitely different from being a mercenary duo. A lovely motto that no doubt Ignatz would uphold as well. With such a sweet person like Ashe, Lorenz supposes that even the aloof his companion would soften.

Suddenly, Felix clears his throat and diverts the topic. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I... Yes. I had difficulties sleeping even with my favourite teas." As much as Lorenz tries to hide his eye bags, those with sharp eyes like Felix still manage to spot them. He tightens his grip onto Ignatz's belongings. "It's my mainly my responsibility why this has happened..."

"What? Is Ignatz now a knight under House Gloucester?"

"He's... not. I've commissioned him to draw. Draw to his heart's content all over the world."

"Why," Ashe beams. "I bet that sound like a dream to Ignatz!"

"In hindsight, I shouldn't have sent him alone. He gets really absorbed in his works, that thief must have struck-"

A hand rests on Lorenz's trembling hands. He looks up and his lips thin at Ashe's sympathetic smile.

Ashe says, "We'll look for him."

"Huh?"

"We're not bound to any area. Moreover, we can't leave a friend in need, isn't that right, Felix?"

Felix sets his glass down, informing Lorenz that their commission is already paid with tea.

* * *

A few weeks later, Lorenz finds a letter addressed to him. The handwriting sends him running to his quarters to read it in private.

Ignatz is well.

A sigh of relief fills the room. Ignatz starts off thanking him for returning his belongings, it doesn't feel the same without them. It turns out he has been scraping by. The endless thunderstorms after the robbery have sent him into hiding due to his astrapophobia. Thankfully, a pair of knights have come to his rescue. Moreover, the fellow knights were right. Inside the envelope lies the item he was protecting from the thief. A painted postcard of Conrad Tower.

Lorenz rereads the last sentence of the letter and utters under his breath, "Ignatz, you fool."

_"I can't let them steal the items you requested for both our sake. My life depends on it."_

For the first time in forever that night, Lorenz slept peacefully with the postcard in his grasp.

* * *

Lorenz’s grinning ear to ear. The number of paintings has exceeded his expectations. Although there is a problem, he’s running out of place to display them in his mansion.

"Wow, I thought I entered a museum." Ferdinand's husband steps into the parlour, stifling his yawn at the stacked paintings on the table. "I think I should return for my mid-day nap."

Ferdinand shakes his head. "Lin dear, please. You promised to join us this time."

Lorenz turns to face his guests. "Duke Ferdinand and Count Linhardt, welcome. Sorry, I'll clear the mess soon."

"Although I must agree," Ferdinand picks up one of the frames, admiring the Mittelfrank Opera House painting. "The quality and quantity are definitely worthy enough to be displayed in a museum, Count Lorenz."

Linhardt pushes his hair out of his face. "Oh, I was jesting but if you're doing to do that, I don't see why not. You already own the rights to his paintings right? A year's worth of paintings."

Lorenz folds his arms. While he may be the one who commissioned Ignatz's works, making a gallery of his works feels odd. If he’s to do it properly, he requires the permission of the artist as well, after all this isn't part of the original plan. How ever is he going to reach him for it?

He pours his concern to his guests. Linhardt simply shakes his head and asks him to go ahead. On the other hand, Ferdinand suggests visiting the next of kin for permission. "What about Ignatz's brother? James Victor is the current head of the family and he's still doing lots of business with House Gloucester is he not? I've heard he's a difficult one to handle though, no matter who he's talking to. If push comes to shove, I'll lend you my support, friend."

"Sounds like a lot of work." Linhardt sighs. "That's our Ferdinand. You always give everything your all, don't you?

"And you love me for it."

"I do, I mean that."

Hence with the lovebirds' advice, Lorenz invites James over to discuss on Ignatz's paintings. He's met with a glare so cold, Lorenz wonders how the Head Merchant conducts his business.

Lorenz reaches out his hand. "Sir James Victor, a pleasure to meet you."

James shakes on it. His grip is firm. "A friend of my brother is a friend of mine... if that's what you're expecting, then I'm afraid I'll have to regretfully inform you that’s not the case. Please get to the matter at hand. I believe we're both busy people."

In fact, nothing about James is similar to Ignatz other than their green hair. The man is almost as tall as Lorenz himself, decked with lots of pouches all over him. Lorenz stares at James's mullet as the latter follows the servant to the dining room. It irks Lorenz that his guest doesn't spare a glance at his own brother's works across the hallway.

All attempts at small talk fall flat. The refreshments are untouched as well. Lorenz should've heeded Ferdinand's warning.

"Why do you require my permission for my brother's works when you so clearly have it? Showing them off on the hallways isn't enough for you?"

The Count's frowns deepen. Whispers amongst his servants only tick him off further. He draws a sharp breath and reminds himself he's doing this for Ignatz.

"... I believe Ignatz would be proud to showcase his works to everyone, nobles and commoners alike. It won't be for profit but getting approval from you would suffice. Ignatz holds you in high regard."

"Are you certain you're not flaunting your wealth at me?"

Lorenz's tea cup clinks against the saucer. "James Victor, I don't understand your tone against me."

"Oh if it makes you any better, it's mostly towards your family at first. "

"Excuse me?"

"But you just have to send my family for another errand. Is it going to cost his life this time?"

"Of course not!" Lorenz's frown thins. James wouldn't have known about Ignatz being robbed. Even if he does, what he says doesn't make sense. "Wait, what do you mean by this time?"

"Unbelievable. How could you be so oblivious, especially when those affected were so close to you for years?"

"I... I don't understand."

Begrudgingly, James leaves him with a cryptic hint that involves his father - _1177_.

* * *

With a heavy heart, Lorenz finds himself entering his father's retirement cottage asking the dreaded question. "Were you responsible for Duke Riegan's death?"

Darkness consumes the living room as the curtains fall. His father doesn't deny the accusation. Allen stands upright in front of his cabinet full of medals. His hands are clasped together on his back. "What else have you heard, Hellman?"

The day after James left, Lorenz reads up on the accounts of the year 1177 by his own. The carriage accident of the Duke's death stands out the most, along with two merchants hired to accompany him. Their last name, Kirsten, gets his stomach churning.

"... Nothing else, father."

"Sit down."

The chair creaks under his weight. Lorenz keeps his eyes on his tea cup. The tea does little to soothe his worries.

With his perpetual grim expression, Allen sits beside him. He combs his hair, untangling his silver locks. In a matter-of-fact voice, he declares, "It's true, I've gotten rid of that pest."

Lorenz's eyes widen. A shred of light lances in, shining on his tea. Ripples form on its surface as he stands abruptly. "You killed... Duke Riegan?"

"Don't act so surprised, Hellman. You've your share of killing. I simply sent him to his death."

"Father, don't you compare my struggles to end the war with your assassination out of greed! I've been acting for the good for our people as mother would've wanted. You even dragged innocents into your wicked plans."

"What good would that do you? Sit down."

Lorenz grits his teeth. He releases his hands, staring at the half-moon markings on his palms. He contemplates leaving his father but the thought soon perishes. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because no one will believe you if you even attempt to reveal it."

"You-"

"You have no evidence of such an atrocious claim. My words against yours? Hah! Cease this matter at once, Hellman. It will only ruin House Gloucester."

* * *

The rest of the week is a blur.

His stare lingers on the rose bush outside before returning to the tower of endless paperwork. It's one of the rare things that keep him sane.

An unexpected visitor knocks on his door and sweeps him off his feet, carrying him further than the said bushes much to his chagrin. Now, Lorenz’s surrounded by a faint chorus of moos under the scorching afternoon sun.

"Feeling great after being freed from your stuffy desk, Count Lorenz?"

"Very funny, Catherine."

He shoots her a glare to which she ignores. Catherine is without her usual armour, although her Thunderbrand remains at her side. The last thing he heard about her was her declining the promotion to be the next Captain of the Knights of Seiros, opting to remain at Lady Rhea's side until her last breath. Now that the Archbishop has passed on, she has been seen wandering the outskirts of Garreg Mach.

Her gaze softens at the cows across the farmer's fields and he finds himself sighing. Whenever someone admires House Gloucester's strengths, it fills him with pride. However, the feeling only weights him down as his mind wanders to his father's words.

"Catch."

Lorenz fumbles with the tossed sheathed sword. "What are you thinkin-"

"What about a spar for your thoughts?"

His frown ceases. Without another word, they partake in a match, one where both emerge as winners. The tension that built up since visiting his father is unleashed in every blow. By the end of it, his chest feels lighter.

Catherine keeps her sword away, laughing. "Not bad, you're still in shape."

"Of course, I need to maintain my image." Lorenz wipes the small beads of sweat off his face. "Carrying me in the same manner as carrying a sack of potato has damaged it but it's nothing I can fix."

Her laughter fades away. "I've heard from Linhardt, regarding your father."

Lorenz tenses up again.

"Relax, he's only worried about you. Lysithea too. You haven't been dropping by for tea with her lately. She misses it, even if she claims she's busy with research with Hanneman."

"... How did Linhardt come into the picture?"

"Eh, wherever Crests research is involved, you know he would be there and coincidentally he's there with an answer."

The wind picks up, whipping Lorenz's hair into his face. He adjusts his cravat. The thought of his father is choking him once more.

"What about it?"

"Don't go feigning ignorance now. Our circumstances differ but... I thought I could lend you an ear."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Christophe. Does the name ring a bell?"

Christophe Gaspard. The man that Catherine had turned over to the Knights of Seiros herself, resulting to his death. Cautiously, Lorenz nods. He had investigated Catherine's background, for the thought of a commoner wielding a Heroic Relic was too suspicious.

She walks along the fences and gestures for him to follow. "Huh, seems like a lecture. I'd this talk with Ashe before."

He swallows under her stern gaze. He knows that man was Ashe's adoptive older brother after connecting Lonato as his adoptive father long ago. However, he doesn't recall reading any connections between Catherine and Ashe's brother. Did Catherine know him beforehand? Weren't they around the same age?

"The gist is," she scratches her head. "I know how it felt to send someone you hold dear to their demise."

Suddenly, it hits him. She must have known Christophe when she was Cassandra Charon, perhaps even as former Blue Lions classmates.

He wipes his sweat off again. It takes him a whole minute to find his voice. "Why?"

"I didn't have a choice. I need to protect her."

She stops by bushes of lilies. The tree above them shelters them from the sun.

"It will be hard. Emotions will rush out like a broken dam. Nevertheless, you need to hold them in. Don't regret it or else everything would be in vain."

Lorenz isn't sure if it's for Lady Rhea or for her own sake. However, that's the least of his concerns.

"... I'm perturbed. You mentioned you did this out of protection."

"Can you find it in you to forgive the man who caused pain to those you care about?"

"Of course not. Even if they were people I don't know, I... would still oppose his methods."

A farmer nearby notices him, tipping their hat with a smile. Lorenz offers a small smile in return. Everyone in Gloucester is under his care, whether or not he knows them personally.

A quick glance at Catherine confirms something he has mentioned long ago. Nobles are accounted for their leadership after all.

"There, let your conviction lead your way. It'll make living slightly easier." She rakes the fields with her eyes. "Your place ain't bad and it's getting better with your lead, Lorenz."

By the time Lorenz returns to his chambers, the sun has set. Yet, when he picks up the postcard, he can't help but notice the stark contrast with the view outside. There's still a glimmer of hope out there.

* * *

No amount of tea could quell his worries. Taking a sip, Lorenz rakes his eyes across Kristen Inn. The night is still young for the patrons. He sets his tea down and strokes the cover of his journal. It's getting weary. Slowly, he opens it, revealing a small piece of jagged paper with only two words, 'Sure! -Raphael.'

He swallows the lingering taste of ginger tea. It took him three days to write a letter, inviting the man for a meal. As Raphael has said before, getting to know another person through food is the best way. Colour Lorenz surprised when he received a reply within the same day. The postman added that the Inn owner has invited Lorenz over to the inn tonight. Raphael claimed he was too busy to write that down.

"Sorry for the wait!" Raphael's mullet bounces about his shoulders after bidding to some of his patrons farewell. "A gift? You shouldn't have!"

Raphael leans over the covered painting that takes up almost half of the table. His smile is broad as if he's about to feast.

"It's from Ignatz."

Lorenz brings his cup close, sniffing the aroma of ginger. With his other hand, he gestures for him to unwrap the painting. Surprisingly, Raphael opens it with tender care. Lorenz doesn't know that his smile could go broader.

A painting of Nuvelle port restoration. It's almost a parallel of Ignatz's Deirdre painting.

"Oh sweet! Is this one of his artworks that you commissioned? Ignatz was really excited about it before he went off for his journey."

"Yes," the corners of his lips tip upwards. "I would like you to keep it."

"Oh, why?"

"I'm running out of space to showcase them."

Raphael guffaws. His merry laughter is louder than the various groups in the inn combined. "He's drawn so much?"

"Indeed. Moreover, I thought you might like this piece for your Inn. It... gives a hopeful vibe."

"Sure! I bet Ignatz would love that too."

With a gulp, Lorenz asks Raphael to sit down. His voice turns grave. "I've found out... the truth about your parents."

Raphael's smile vanishes. The inn turns colder. Thunder rumbles. "I wonder if there's a thunderstorm at Ignatz's too. He's pretty bad with-"

"Raphael, kindly do not change the matter at hand."

Something flickers in his eyes. The chirpiness in his voice becomes solemn. "What's there to talk about?"

"My father was responsible for their deaths. I'll take full responsibility to ensure he will be held accounted for his actions immediately. I just need to let you know-"

Lightning flashes, illuminating Raphael's shell-shock face. It takes him a while to come back to his senses.

"It's not your responsibility. What happened is between our parents, not us."

Lorenz flinches. While he has expected this to be tough, he doesn't expect the mood-maker of Golden Deer being uncooperative. Him, of all people.

"Raphael, it clearly has affected both of us."

"I'm sorry Lorenz. If you don't have anything else to say, please go."

The chair screeches as Raphael looms over Lorenz.

"Bro!"

Maya rushes towards him, pulling his sleeves and bringing him to his senses. She shoots a pleading look towards Lorenz. He takes one last glance at the painting before excusing himself. He tries not to wilt under his gaze.

Exiting the inn, the overwhelming smell of rain assaults his nose. His mind clouds cover Raphael's hanging words and his sister's frightened face. Suddenly, a hand tugs his collar just in time before he gets drenched.

"Lorenz."

Lorenz re-balances and swivels his head to the familiar stoic tone. She doesn't look like she’s aged a bit. Although, it seems that she has replaced her choker for a leather necklace that resembles Catherine's.

"S-Shamir?"

"Not here."

Without another word, she opens up an umbrella and leads him to another inn. It's void of the liveliness and warmth from Kristen Inn.

Two cups of Chamomile tea are served on their table. Lorenz keeps stirring the tea, gathering his jumbled thoughts. If Raphael, the man who is the most affected by the incident, doesn't want to pursue the matter, what should Lorenz do? Should he let his father be? Or should Lorenz continue without Raphael's support?

The thought of scrutinising Claude under his father's orders sends him cringing. What other blind orders have he followed? What would his father do to Claude if Lorenz had snitched their plans to take back the Great Bridge of Myrddin from the Empire back then? Would another Riegan be killed because of him?

"Your tea will get cold."

"S-sorry."

Still, he doesn't lift the cup. He gulps, perplexed at the lingering taste of Raphael's tea.

"I've heard what happened."

Lorenz blinks. He’s been talking low enough for Raphael to hear in that busy Inn. Then again, this is Shamir he's handling with. "Why were you there?"

"Just hanging out after my shift," she drinks her tea with a straight face. "That's beside the point. Sorry that happened to you, you look terrible."

He hangs his head low. Pity is not what he wanted albeit he would prefer her company over a sleepless night.

She says, "I can look into the hansom driver."

"...What?"

She throws a glance towards Raphael's Inn direction. Seeing Lorenz still doesn't follow, Shamir leans slightly forward, whispering, "His parent's carriage."

Lorenz's feels a dip in his stomach. How is everyone knowing this? Is he the last person to know?

"Relax, Cath just told me and I assure you she didn't tell anyone else."

He nods and keeps his wits about him. He doesn't know the fellow purple-haired well. A skilled mercenary is one of the rare things he knows about her.

"What do you require as compensation?"

"90,000 gold," she pauses and touches her necklace. "And a favour."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you once I'm done. It's something only you can do."

Lorenz touches his cup. The ripples on the tea sum up his mood. No one else comes to mind on investigating in this matter. Reluctantly, he agrees. Shamir’s someone his professor and Catherine trusts too, after all.

Lightning strikes, enveloping the whole inn in a flash of white. Shamir remains unfazed as she continues drinking her tea.

James's words come to mind. Judging from Raphael's reaction, he must have known about it, even if it's only a rumour to him. Is it the same for Ignatz? It was his own parents that were supposed to go with the late Duke Riegan initially.

Did Ignatz decline on being his knight because of it?

* * *

Something red is dropped on Lorenz's face. His utensils clank onto his plate as he grabs onto the red object, careful not to crush it upon feeling its softness.

It's his rose.

With a frown, he swivels his head to his yawning non-nonchalant visitor.

"You dropped it." Linhardt sits across his dining table, stifling his yawn. "Your welcome."

Lorenz shakes his head and pins it on his blouse carefully. "Technically, you did."

"You dropped it first then."

Silence creeps up on them. Both of them stare at the half-eaten steak on Lorenz's plate. Eventually, Lorenz cuts a small portion of it.

"Wow, you didn't point out I said 'your' instead of 'you're' this time? Must be pretty serious."

Lowering his steak mid-air, Lorenz sighs. "Count Linhardt... How did you get in?"

"Funny you should ask. I told them I have an appointment with you, which I clearly didn't, and your ever so organised servant got flustered and let me in. They probably didn't want to embarrass you."

Lorenz puts down his knife and wipes his mouth. His appetite is long gone, eaten by perpetual worries clouding his mind. He would've skipped lunch if not for his servants' constant reminders. Yet, here he is, worrying them when it's his job to do so.

While helping himself to the tea, Linhardt asks, "Didn't open the new painting yet?"

The simple question weighs down on him. Linhardt must have seen the unwrapped parcel in the parlour on the way. Lorenz's mouth parts slightly. He mulls over it. "I don't know if I'm worthy of it."

Shamir investigated too fast for his liking. A detailed report of the hansom driver arrived at his own chamber's doorstep a week after their meeting. He doesn't doubt the accuracy of her calibre. However, he wished it wasn't true.

His father hired an assassin from the Empire.

"Ignatz hates me."

Linhardt raises both eyebrows. He looks away, grabbing an apple from the fruit platter in front. Tilting his head, he takes a bite and asks, "Why would he forced himself to do it? I don't know him that well but he-"

The lack of manners and sensitivity ticks Lorenz off. "It's precisely because you don't know him well. He's the kind who would let himself be hurt to let others be happy."

"... Let's get it straight, didn't Ignatz originally wanted to earn his parents approval before embarking on his creative journey? It's in his own interest at first. You didn't force him. You aided him with his dream."

Lorenz's eyes widen. With almost everyone against him, he feels he’s been nothing but a disappointment. As he opens his mouth to speak, Linhardt continues, "He's not your knight too. You're letting all these negativity cloud your judgement. Open your eyes to the facts."

However, he does have the facts of Raphael's parents' death. He doesn't turn a blind eye to them either.

Linhardt's yawn is getting contagious. Lorenz covers his own mouth in disgust. "Do you need to rest?"

"Irresistible offer that I'll take up later." Linhardt rests his elbow on the table and toys with the apple core. "If you listened to my advice in the first place you wouldn't end up in this situation."

Being kept in the dark would undoubtedly be easier for the Count as much as he despises the thought.

"Question. If it's not Raphael's parents, would you still be affected?"

A peal of forced laughter escapes from Lorenz's cracked smile. "You've always had all the answers. Why don't you advise me?"

It was because of Linhardt that Catherine and Shamir knew about this in the first place. It was why Lorenz sought Shamir's help to seek the truth and had gotten himself stuck in this plight. He wouldn't be lamenting over this. Moreover, if Linhardt didn't suggest opening a museum, then he wouldn't have met James and find out about-

Another yawn interrupts his train of thought. Lorenz unclenches his fists, ashamed at the fury of blaming others for his ignorance. Fixing his fringe, he sighs. "You're yawning so much."

"Scornfully looks don't suit you nobles." Linhardt shrugs. "It's a waste of energy."

"People are hurt because of my obliviousness and at this rate, uselessness. I don't know how I can make up to them."

"Are you seeking their forgiveness for yourself?" Linhardt sits up straight, his hands are now underneath the table. "From what I understood, Raphael has forgiven the incident despite not knowing the truth. He's not asking you for this."

Lorenz swallows audibly. "I... understand Raphael may have moved on."

He pauses, controlling his trembling hands. He feels so small and powerless. How can nobles be held accountable for their actions if Lorenz can't bring one case to light? Being a personal matter shouldn't obstruct his way of conduct... This is how Lorenz Hellman Gloucester is raised.

"Even if he has... no." Lorenz clears his throat and stares at his rose. Confidence slowly fuelling through him. "No matter who was involved in the incident, it is a mere fact that my father has orchestrated it. I must lead by example and there will be no exemptions. This is the justice our people deserves."

"Even if you might lose your House?"

"Then so be it."

Their eyes lock and neither breaks eye contact until Linhardt breaks into a grin.

"Then you're in luck. I not only know you owe Shamir money and endless sparring sessions with her lover, I know how to support your claim."

"Pardon me?"

Linhardt reveals an envelope from his long sleeves and slides it across the table. Lorenz catches it before it hits his plate. The contents send him standing from his seat. These are 1177 financial records of the man in Shamir's report!

Linhardt yawns again, tears in his eyes, and it dawns on Lorenz the former must have searched day and night for it as the Ministry of Interior.

"For once I'm glad to be the Count of Hevring," drowsily, he heads towards the door, not before mentioning, "Also, I'm sure Ignatz doesn't hate you."

* * *

Lorenz pays another short visit to Kristen Inn. Instead of a painting, he holds vital information to resolve the matter. And once again, he’s ushered out by a baffled Inn owner.

It takes eight visits to finally earn Raphael's approval, one that involves a basket of Gloucester's finest milk and a tale of their residents.

While Lorenz visits his father's home with a heavy heart once more, he's filled with conviction. Never in his whole life, Lorenz has dreamt of sending Allen to prison, yet here he is, letting Catherine and the Knights of Seiros take him away. He doesn't miss the look of disapproval on his father's face.

Watching his retreating figure was harder than restoring the name of House Gloucester in the following weeks.

"Count Lorenz. You're doing well."

Lorenz shifts his gaze from the Conrad Tower painting to the expected visitor. The number of pouches seems to have increased, perhaps even more than the remaining artifacts in the mansion. Despite it all, Lorenz keeps Ignatz's paintings close to him, untouched by merchants and antique appraisers alike.

Chuckling, Lorenz touches his rose and gestures to the parlour. "I've been getting my bearings. Let's get right to it, shall we?"

"Indeed."

James cracks into a smile as they enter the parlour discussing the rights of opening a museum for his brother. By the end of it, the tea snacks are almost cleared.

* * *

Many months later, the museum has been built. Patrons come from all walks of life, be it nobles or commoners. All the incoming paintings are displayed there, inspiring countless young and old artists. Lorenz couldn't be prouder.

Daylight wanes, and the night comes on. Lorenz bids the employees farewell. However, he lingers in front of Ignatz's latest painting depicting carnivorous plants from Dagda. He brings his lantern closer, shining on the fine strokes.

"Count Lorenz?"

Lorenz's hair smacks the painting as he turns around to two familiar shocked faces.

"Ashe? Felix? What're you doing here?"

Ashe scratches his dimples. His hair has grown longer, sporting into a bun like his husband. "It was my idea. We wanted to pay a visit. Oh, we're not going to steal anything, we promise."

"Huh, the lights weren't on so we thought there's nobody around." Felix folds his arms. He looks the same as ever. "We're heading west in the morning so this is our only chance."

Lorenz isn't certain to greet them with open arms or chastise them for sneaking around at night. His sigh envelops the room. "I'll overlook this just this once. Both of you saved Ignatz after all."

"We won't take long, I just wanted a quick look!" Ashe casts a glance towards his partner. "Felix here though wants a tour of the museum. Can you do that for him, Count Lorenz?"

"What? I did n-"

Lorenz beams. He lifts his lantern up and leads the way. "Why of course, you have the privilege of having me giving you a fabulous tour. Come on now, we don't have all night."

Felix shakes his head. His scowl vanishes as he listens to the lengthy explanations filled with fondness. Lorenz remembers every letter that accompanies each piece and shares the struggles of the beloved artist along with his own. "This frame almost dropped on me, if not for Raphael. He came to help out with setting up, especially when it's for Ignatz."

Felix studies the painting of cats outside of a tavern and says, "It's amazing."

Lorenz is quick to agree although he doesn't expect it from the taciturn Knight. Lorenz may not know him well but there's something he can never forget about his fellow classmates. "Felix, pray tell, why did you abandon House Fraldarius to become a knight?"

The lantern flame dances about, illuminating Felix's unreadable expression. This man is a complete opposite of Ignatz. Felix was raised to be the next heir of House Fraldarius, yet he gave it up for knighthood voluntarily.

"It's simple. Before I am a man of Fraldarius, I am my own person. Surely you- ah, that might be difficult for you to understand."

"Yes, I cannot fathom nor dare to imagine. However, that's because that's who I am."

"Then think of it this way. I've my own dreams and I'm not living anyone else' dream."

"That, Felix, I can understand." Lorenz’s certain that is how Ignatz feels too. "Thank you for sharing."

"No. I should be the one thanking you."

Felix shares how he and Ashe crossed paths with Catherine and Shamir during their travels. The two mercenaries had left Garreg Mach after the arrest of Allen Gloucester.

Felix continues, "As strange as it sounds, if you didn't arrest your father then Ashe wouldn't hear about how a story about his brother has aided you through a difficult time. It made him stronger, I can feel it."

Warmth gradually spreads across Lorenz's chest. His eyes glint as they fall onto the pinned rose. "You have Ignatz to thank for that."

* * *

Another season goes by. Sitting in his studyroom, Lorenz holds onto his quill pen as he re-reads the contents of the contract. "I'm amazed you're opening an Art school, Hilda."

"Eh, my brother's helping me." Hilda polishes a brooch and puts it on his desk. "For you."

He takes a closer look, impressed by the purple rose motif. "Why, thank you. Golden Deer is certainly blessed with artists."

"That's why you're going to help with my flourishing school, right?"

"You're the same as ever. Of course, I'll lend you some of Ignatz's paintings."

His agreement elicits a wide smile from his guest, one that he often witnesses whenever she hosts a ballroom party.

"You're the best Lorenz! Don't worry, Holst will pay for transportation and maintenance. How long has this been going on? 3 years already?"

He opens up his drawer full of letters with dried, pressed petals. He runs his hands over the neatly arranged letters and picks the one at the far corner. It's Ignatz's first letter.

He pretends to re-read the date, albeit he already knows it by heart. "2 years, 11 and a half months to be exact."

"Oh, are those the rumoured love letters?"

"W-what?" His cheeks are almost as pink as her hair. "No!"

"Dorothie was right!"

"I haven't met Dorothea ever since graduation."

"Please, it's written all over your face. She probably heard it from Manuela. Actually, scratch that. Your museum has been the talk of not just the town but continent Lorenz! It's so uncommon for someone to commission an artist for years and with free reign too. I'm not surprised if people are saying the noble's museum is full of commissioned landscapes from his artist lover."

"You're just making that up."

"I can bet with you right now that most of my prospective students are inspired by the museum."

Lorenz clears his throat and gestures for her to drink her tea before it turns cold. He hates how he knows she's still smirking behind the cup. "I'm just a friend supporting a classmate."

She rolls her eyes and starts walking around, eventually stopping in front of the Garreg Mach painting. With her back facing him, she asks, "Would you do this for any friend?"

"If I can help them, I can."

"When you were strapped for cash to support the Gloucester region, you refused to sell his paintings, opting to loan from our professor instead. Would you do that for anyone?"

The sound of birds chirping outside fills the room. Lorenz turns to face the window, gazing at the garden below. He spots the new gardener snipping a bush.

Lorenz couldn't sleep for days after letting go all the family servants after Allen's arrest. He couldn't afford to keep them, despite knowing them from birth. Yet, there was a contract he didn't cancel.

"Hilda, they're now the ruler of the United Kingdom of Fodlan. You should address them as such."

"I will once you address Ignatz as your husband."

He shoots her a glare but her back is still facing him. Sighing, he lowers his gaze onto the closed drawer of letters.

It would be a lie if he doesn't miss him, moreover, kiss him. His letters are always the highlights of his days. Knowing what he has been up to and how he’s sending his heart all aflutter.

He has fallen for him, deep.

Hilda's voice brings him out of these thoughts. "What's this? Poems?"

He spins around, seeing Hilda digging through his documents in the cabinet. His feet move faster than his mind. "Oh no, no no no! First Manuela now you! Don't go reading other people's poems without permission."

But Hilda continues reading the poems out loud, avoiding Lorenz's snatches, much to his dismay. Her giggles are only infuriating him.

"You must let Ignatz hear this! Not just tucked away on the shelf. What are you, a housewife waiting for her husband from war?"

"I-it's not for him! It's just my daily muses."

"Who happens to be green and an artist who paints? Nice try, Lorenz."

"How am I going to let him know about this anyway? He could be in Dagda now and then Brigid the next day."

Hilda shakes her head and index finger at him. Her eyes are glinting. "Have you forgotten our conversation earlier?"

"What?"

"Your museum, silly. It has been the talk of the continent and surely other countries have caught wind about it too."

"... No, you mustn't be serious."

She places the poem on his hand. "Oh I am, I'm even in the mood to assist you. How lucky."

It's with great gusto that Hilda puts up Lorenz's poems in his museum and her school. It doesn't take long for the patrons and students to clamour, spreading his love beyond the boundaries he doesn't expect.

And he enjoys it.

His shyness is eventually outshone by his affections and pride for Ignatz. His voice is laced with tenderness whenever he speaks of him. Whenever a new painting arrives, his friends would come over with endless teasing for his new poem to accompany it.

* * *

Soon enough, his efforts bear fruit.

"Count Lorenz," his servant announces outside of the studyroom, "a new mail has arrived."

Lorenz stifles his yawn. It's unusually late for deliveries but he sends him in. It's probably a request from the farmers.

"Hello, Count Lorenz."

Lorenz drops his quill pen. His heart jackhammers in his chest. The familiar voice behind the huge canvas could only belong to one person.

"I-Ignatz?"

As if on cue, Ignatz flips the canvas, showing a painting of a grand chapel. He's no longer dressed in green, instead, he's in a formal white suit with a deep red rose in his front pocket. He sports a mullet but his boyish looks set him apart from his brother.

"A letter couldn't convey what I wanted to say so... here I am with a confession. Will you walk down the aisle with me?"

Covering his mouth, Lorenz says, "This is troubling."

Ignatz freezes and fumbles. "L-Lorenz? I knew it I shouldn't have borrowed my brother's suit-"

"We must get the best artist to draw our wedding portrait but I can't be asking you to draw our own."

Laughter erupts from the pair, echoing off the mansions' walls for the rest of their colourful lives.


End file.
